


Fire and Ice

by Andrina_Nightshade



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Brief moment of implied dubcon (but not really), Dark Rey (Star Wars), F/M, Jealous Ben Solo, Jedi Ben Solo, Kissing, Lightsaber Duels, Medical Procedures, No Pregnancy, No wampas or tauntauns were hurt in the making of this story, Oral Sex, Otherwise very enthusiastic consent, Pining, Rough Sex, Safe to Read if Triggered by Pregnancy, Taunting, background Han/Leia, brief allusion to group sex, brief mention of EU siblings, dom/sub dynamics, everyone's a switch in space, injuries, oh no we're stuck together whatever shall we do to pass the time?
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 16:54:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28380489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Andrina_Nightshade/pseuds/Andrina_Nightshade
Summary: Some say the world will end in fire,Some say in ice.From what I’ve tasted of desireI hold with those who favor fire.But if it had to perish twice,I think I know enough of hateTo say that for destruction iceIs also greatAnd would suffice.Robert FrostStranded during a snowstorm on Hoth, Jedi Knight Ben Solo finds himself in the clutches of the fearsome Darksider (and his reluctant bond mate in the Force) Kira Ren. Can they make it through the night without killing one another or betraying their respective causes?Written for the Reylo Readers and Writer's Marvellous Moodboard event!
Relationships: Minor or Background Relationship(s), Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 18
Kudos: 33
Collections: Reylo Readers & Writers - The Marvellous Moodboard Event





	Fire and Ice

**Author's Note:**

  * For [thewayofthetrashcompactor (BriarLily)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BriarLily/gifts).



> I've wanted to explore a dark Rey/Jedi Ben story for a while (well, darker than I've written her before!) and this amazing moodboard gave me the perfect inspiration to do so! Thank you to the lovely thewayofthetrashcompactor (BriarLily) for submitting to the event.
> 
> Thank you also to the team at The Workshop for all their support/advice during writing sprints, and to Rey_Lo for beta-reading this fic for me.
> 
> Title comes from the above poem by Robert Frost.

When Ben Solo awakens, his mouth parched and his mind groggy, he notices five things.

The first is the burning, arid scent of bacta in the air, thick enough to choke him. The second - and likely associated - thing he realises is that there is a searing pain in his left side. He sits up abruptly, and a litany of curses in foulest Huttese fall from his lips.

When he lifts his fingers to brush his aching flank, he realises with rising horror that he is shirtless.

His horror is compounded when he realises that he is on a ship. One that is neither the _Falcon_ nor the _Tantive IV_ nor even the _Mirrorbright…_ This vessel is all clean, sharp lines and sleek black surfaces. Upsilon Class, he surmises. A First Order vessel.

The final thing he realises is that there is another Force signature in the room, one crackling with dark energy and an undercurrent of mischief… One so familiar that his body trembles with remembered fear. Even though the lights are dim, and he cannot see her, Ben knows exactly _whose_ ship this is.

* * *

In hindsight, volunteering to investigate the mysterious craft which had landed just out of reach of the base’s scanners had been a colossal error of judgement, Ben grumped. Even for a planet of perpetual winter, the winds and snowfall had been particularly heavy on these last few days. Said wind ripped through even his heaviest layers. In this weather, land-speeders were useless, and he had been forced to ride a tauntaun.

A tauntaun currently digging its heels into the snow and whining.

With a sigh, Ben dropped off the creatures back, landing heavily in the snow that came up to his shins. Even his teeth rattled with the cold. “Stay,” he told the beast, pointing a gloved finger in its face and trying to sound as firm and commanding as he could. The tauntaun merely snorted, and sank to the snow with an annoyed look.

Truthfully, Ben had been itching to escape Echo Base for some time. Endless days of harsh, artificial light; the air of despondency hanging over his comrades; the echoes of his parents' voices down the corridors as they yelled at one another. Han Solo and Leia Organa had always loved each other in an almost abrasive manner - as likely to coo endearments as trade prickly barbs - yet the affection between them had never been in doubt. But evidently the strain of fighting _another_ war was beginning to show.

Jaina had always been good at breaking up their fights, placating them and getting them to apologise to each other for harsh words. Ben had never quite understood how his sister managed to navigate their parent's capricious relationship, but he was grateful. But now, Jaina was off planet; and whilst Jacen remained on the base, he preferred to let any parental disputes peter out. So Ben had found himself trying to split up yet another fight between his parents this morning - helped by the timely appearance of Lieutenant Connix with news of this lone craft making planetfall. 

And, selfishly, Ben seized the chance to investigate. Hence, his current predicament.

It took Ben about ten minutes of trudging in the snow to realise perhaps the tauntaun had been onto something. The wind gathered pace, it’s howls now loud enough to drown out The Voice. Snowflakes clung to his goggles, and in a moment he was blinded.

He ripped off the offending goggles, and fumbled for the datapad. The mysterious vessel was still another five klicks away.

No sooner had he contemplated turning back when he became aware of another. And then, he saw her.

His white clothes at least offered some form of camouflage in the snow. In contrast, her swirling black garb and helm should stand out. That she had gotten so close without him spotting her was a testament to how thick this snowstorm was.

Before he could fumble for his lightsaber or even a blaster, he saw the twin red blades of her saber staff ignite. Menace and dark energy seemed to swirl around her. 

Hurt flares within him. The scar bisecting his face stings with remembered pain. She had branded him with that scar - the day she had ripped into his mind and tortured him. The fearsome Kira Ren, Snoke's favoured apprentice, his dark enforcer, the monster whose name was spoken in fearful whispers only.

She had another name too, one Ben shouted.

But the wind swallowed his cries, and no matter how desperately he projected, she showed no sign of slowing her approach.

Running would be pointless - and anyway, Ben muses as he pulls free his saber and ignites it, he was too much his father's son to abandon a fight. Too reckless.

And Kira only made him more so.

With every step, her Force signature crackles with murderous intent. Her mask gleams in the fading light, a visage crafted to chill her prey. But Ben knows the face beneath it. 

Her saberstaff clashes with his, blue light against red, their crystals hissing and crackling with every contact. Snow crunches beneath their boots.

His limbs ache as he tries to parry her every blow. She is fast, agile, and fighting to kill. His thick outdoor heat barely protects him from the cold, and hinders his saber forms. 

"Rey!" He shouts. "This is madness! We're in the middle of a snowstorm! Please, let's just find some shelter and talk."

**_"You talk too much, Solo,"_** comes that grating metallic voice. 

Before he can challenge her, interject, _move,_ he feels the searing pain of her lightsaber as it pierces his side. “Oh,” he said dumbly, before darkness enveloped him.

* * *

"Oh good, you're awake. _Finally_."

What surprises him most - other than the fact she didn’t leave him bleeding in the snow - is that she is no longer wearing her mask. The voice which speaks to him isn’t that horrid, modulated tone; but one deceptively soft and lilting. 

She emerges from the shadows. Gone are the heavy robes and vambraces she normally sports. Instead, she is dressed in a loose shirt and leggings- black, of course - and her hair hangs loose and damp around her shoulders. But, even without the garb of the First Order, she is no less menacing.

“We’ve on board your ship?” Ben asks, his voice hoarse. 

Kira nods. 

"Why?"

"I decided it wasn't sportsmanslike to leave a man to bleed to death or freeze to death in the snow," she says crisply. "Not even a _Jedi_ deserves that.”

Ben turns onto his uninjured side and groans. "Thank you for being so magnanimous," he retorts. "Now give me my shirt so I can get out of here."

She gives a derisive laugh. "We're in the middle of a snowstorm, Solo. You'd barely get half a klick before you died of exposure out there." She slinks close, and presses a finger to his lips before he can protest. "Listen…"

Even within layers of durasteel, he can hear the groaning of the wind. The chronometer on the wall indicates that it's after dark. Even on a temperate night, Hoth is deadly. To walk out in a snowstorm would be suicide.

His heart pangs suddenly for the tauntaun, irascible beast that it was, and hopes that it found some shelter before the storm hit.

"Looks like you're stuck with me, Solo."

"Planning on stabbing me again, _Rey_?" He counters, seeing that flash in her eyes whenever he uses that discarded name.

Her violence Ben can handle. His body already bears the scars of her weapon. The burn on his shoulder. The time she sliced his face open. He had been at her mercy, lying bleeding and prone deathly weak on a desert planet. When she had stood above him, those twin blades close enough to sear his skin, he had believed she would kill him. But her eyes had softened, and she had darkened her saber before walking away.

And as he had lain in a bacta tank on the _Raddus_ , sedatives coursing in his bloodstream, he had dreamt of her. Of her hazel eyes and freckles. Of her lips. Of ripping those black robes from her body, kissing every inch of her pale skin, and sinking his cock into her as she moaned his name in ecstasy. 

Later, he would blame the drugs for those visions. He had never had such fevered, lustful dreams. Even Tai, with whom he had shared a few exploratory kisses in his teenage years, had never provoked such a visceral reaction. Ben had started to question if he was perhaps asexual; and whilst his friends and siblings and cousins had engaged in romantic adventures, he remained alone.

But the dreams did not stop once he was discharged from the Med Bay. Instead, they became _more_ vivid. Her soft lips wrapped around his cock. His head buried between her thighs, pleasuring her with his mouth. Fucking her in his bunk; against his desk; in the 'fresher; even - mortifyingly - in the Falcon's cockpit, shoving her up and down on his cock in the pilot's chair.

He hadn't been able to set foot on the ship for _weeks_ after that particular fantasy.

Instead, he had taken himself in hand, and let her name - her _real_ name - fall from his lips as he spilled over his palm.

And now… Now, he was stranded on her ship with her, for Force knew how many hours. Already the tips of his ears are reddening. If she were to rip into his mind again, realise that he desired her, had pleasured himself to a fantasy of her… well, perhaps dying foolishly in a snowstorm wasn't so bad.

"I did not go to all the effort of dragging you to my ship and healing you - you're welcome, by the way! - to let you get yourself killed five minutes later. And besides," she adds in a low voice, "I would miss our little chats." Before he can form a response, she suddenly stands and regards him with a critical eye. "Caf?"

Ben blinks; nods. "Please." As she turns to busy herself with the caf-machine, he clears his throat. "I think we need to set some rules for the next few hours," he says, pleased that his voice does not waver.

Kira does not even look in his direction, but hums contemplatively. "Go on…"

"We keep all talk neutral. I won't ask about the First Order's plans and you won't ask about the Resistance's. And we won't have a repeat of last time either."

"If you're referring to the violation of your mind," she says, barely audible over the hiss of boiling water from the caf machine, "Then you need not worry." She pours the black liquid into two mugs before turning to face him with a sinister smile on her lips. "You have the most expressive eyes I've ever seen, Solo. And you always blush so prettily. I could get the schematics of the entire base out of you without you so much as opening your mouth." She passes him the mug. "Nonetheless, I agree to your terms."

"Thank you," Ben says softly, even as he squirms under her regard. Another unfortunate inheritance from his father. The twins had inherited Leia Organa's skill at keeping her expression neutral even under scrutiny.

Luckily, the mug of caf provides a convenient shield. The drink is especially bitter; he would ordinarily take two spoons of nectar with it, but he doubts Rey keeps a supply on board. Sweetened drinks hardly fit the image of a dark and murderous Sith apprentice.

He watches her sip from her mug, before nursing it in her lap. Her eyes are dark, and even conflicted. 

"You've been shutting me out," she says suddenly. "I can feel our connection start to open sometimes, but then it doesn't. Almost as if _someone_ ," she glares at him pointedly, "has been throwing up a barricade."

Ben pushes his cup aside. "What do you want me to say, Rey? We're on the opposite sides of a _kriffing_ war. We can't be enemies in the daylight and pretend to be friends in the darkness."

Hurt flashes in her eyes; quickly replaced by rage. But her Force signature radiates with an entire maelstrom of emotions.

Perhaps he should not have spoken so cruelly to her, Ben thinks. His brief foray into her mind - purely a defensive tactic against her violation of his, he reminds himself - had shown him a horrifying series of memories. Of watching her parents trade her to a Crolute slaver for a pittance; of her weeping and crying and begging them to come back; of the sharp lash of a whip and the gnawing pain of hunger; of an endless, aching loneliness in her heart that nothing would ever quell. 

Snoke's tortures when he had "liberated" her from a scavengers fate were positively mild in comparison to what she had endured on Jakku. She had shared those hateful memories with no one else. 

And sometimes, when the bond would open late at night, they would talk. He felt her solitude as acutely as if it were his own. Too many times had he spotted her hastily wiping away tears before launching a barrage of taunts and threats upon him. Rey was hurt and weak; and her Master despised weakness, so she would retaliate on Ben when the chance arose.

He ought to hate her for it; but every tear caused a pang in his heart. 

Sometimes, he was weak too; consumed with fear and the lingering doubts of others. And, when his tongue couldn't vocalise the words to his family and friends, he confessed those thoughts to her. Part of him screamed that this was folly - like walking willingly into a Rathar's den and trusting it not to slaughter you - but in those quiet moments, she seemed earnest enough.

The bond felt like it offered some protection - that they could not harm one another whilst the Force connected them across the stars. But here, trapped on her ship in a snowstorm, mere hours after she had stabbed him - _again_ \- anything could happen.

Anything - in this case- appeared to be her turning away and sitting in mullish silence.

Ben rubs his aching side again, remembering that he is still without a shirt. He spots his Jedi robes hanging on the back of a chair, sodden and dripping all over the floor.

He bites his lip, and sighs. "I don't suppose you have a cowl or something I could borrow?"

Rey snorts, and turns around. Her face is the impassive mask of Kira Ren once more, but neither her gaze nor her Force signature can disguise the desolation in her soul. She had accused him of having expressive eyes - but hers were equally as bad.

"Nothing that would fit you," she says, plucking at a stray thread on her shirt. Her lips pull into that smirk he knows so well. "Besides, you'll get mistaken for one of my Knights if you walk back to your base dressed in First Order colours."

Ben ignores that comment, pulling the Cyrene silk sheets up to cover his chest. Rey's eyes seem to track the motion.

"You know," she says suddenly, stretching like a loth-cat in the sun, "You would make a brilliant addition to the Knights of Ren." Ben snorts. "I'm serious, Solo. None of them are as powerful as you, and you're the only person who even remotely poses a challenge to me in a duel. Although…"

He should ignore her; he should meditate and focus and certainly not rise to her bait. Especially regarding this. Especially when the Voice still whispers to him in dreams, when the darkness still seems so close. 

No wonder his family can't trust him. He can barely trust himself.

But, try as he might to bite his tongue, he eventually asks, "Although what?"

Rey clicks her tongue against the roof of her mouth. Mischief brushes against him. "Although… you'd need to be able to take orders, and you're far too rebellious for that. I'd have to break you first; make you more docile and obedient."

That surprises a laugh from him. "I'm a Jedi Knight, Rey, not some beast of burden. You would have to do a hell of a lot more than _break_ me." He shakes his head. "Believe me, I'm in no rush to fall to the Dark Side." He rubs a hand over the back of his neck. 

"It's not all bad on the Dark Side," she retorts. "Besides, I would make it worth your while…"

At that, his traitorous cock twitches in his trousers. Her pupils dilate, and he can almost hear the twitch in his breath.

She begins to pace her quarters. "You wouldn't have to hide out on this desolate planet, for a start. Remember what sunlight feels like, Ben? Warm, bright…" her voice takes on a honeyed tone, low and dangerous. "You wouldn't have to endure all the whispers and suspicion. You're wasting your power and talent here, Solo." Rey slinks onto the bed; Ben shifts, his eyes blown as he regards her nervously. "When was the last time you used your training for anything other than sparring? You never seem to leave the planet, when your peers and your siblings are constantly out on missions. Even Skywalker Junior gets to go."

Rey brushes a finger over his cheekbone. Even in the warm air, her hands feel like ice. He flinches, and pushes her away. 

Anger pulses in her Force signature, but she tries to maintain that soft, seductive voice. "All I ask is your obedience, Ben. Do you really want to spend the rest of your life pouring over intelligence reports and maps for the losing side of a war?"

"Better to die in the light than live a minute in the Dark," he retorts, finding his voice. 

Rey snorts. "As if you're some paragon of the Light Side, Solo. I've seen your mind; what tempts you and causes you to doubt."

_The only thing that tempts me is you,_ he thinks; gripping the thought before it flutters free and she senses it. Already he is _aching_. So he tries a different tactic. "Don't fool yourself, Rey. The only one who commands the Knights of Ren is Snoke. You may be their leader, but you're just a minion on a longer leash."

A cold, dark chuckle escapes her lips, echoing in the room. The sound causes Ben to shiver.

"That's where you're wrong, Solo," she says. Her eyes are almost black now. "I am their master, not Snoke. The Knights of Ren do exactly as I command. If I order them to kill, they do it. If I tell them to burn, they do it." Her lips twist into a cruel smile, her teeth bared. "And if I tell them to line up and drop their pants so that I can suck them off before they take turns fucking me… Well, I haven't had any complaints so far."

An animalistic sound escapes Ben, fed by the possessive curl of jealousy in his heart. Blood turned to venom in his veins with every word dripping from lips. _Mine, mine, you are mine!_ A torrent of images assault him. Faceless men, their lips and hands and cocks on her body as she writhes and moans in ecstasy. Her pale skin flushed with desire as she bounces on another man's cock whilst another fucks her mouth. The images are hazy - not like the sharp, clear memories he had encountered on his last sojourn into her mind - but he does not care.

He grabs her forearm, uncaring if leaves bruises in the shape of his fingers, and slants his mouth over hers - _hard -_ swallowing her surprised yelp. Her lips are soft, pliant; his tongue forces its way into her mouth, probing and insistent. 

_Mine!_

He cradles the back of her skull to pull them closer, his fingers tangling in the dampened hair at her nape. Cries of anguished pleasure - hers - reverberate against his mouth; he groans in response, half-mad on the sound.

She tastes of caf, and something else. Something uniquely Rey - a flavour he wants to know every facet of as he plunders her mouth. His teeth sink into her lower lip, and suddenly the metallic taste of blood fills his mouth.

And, with the suddenness of an electric jolt, Ben rips his mouth and hands from her.

Hot shame crashes over him; bile fills his throat. He buries his head in his hands, too horrified to even look in her direction. 

The Voice had always warned Ben Solo that, deep down, he was little more than a monster. 

The Voice was right.

Calloused fingers pry his hands from his face. Tears cloud his vision as he turns to Rey, his lips suddenly dry. He waits for her rage, her astonishment… even the burn of her saber.

Instead, he feels unseen hands throw him back and pin him to the bed. Before he can utter a question, an apology, she straddles his bare chest and bends her head forward to kiss him with the same brutality.

Ben struggles, but her lips chase his, seizing his mouth with a triumphant growl. 

"Darkness suits you, Solo," she murmurs against his mouth, returning the favour and biting his lips hard enough to draw blood. When she breaks the kiss, still atop him, she is _grinning._

Words fall mutely from his lips; shame now mingles with confusion as he stares up at her. He had forced himself upon her, _violated_ her… hadn't he?

Ben closes his eyes, allows his emotions to brush against hers, to investigate and interrogate… There is no fear, no shame in her Force signature, only a dark and possessive _elation_.

She had taunted him, needled him, until she found a weakness to exploit, and then she had broken him.

And that weakness was _her_.

Any apology that might have fallen from his lips is replaced with a snarl. 

But mirth still sparkles in her eyes. She leans down to ghost a kiss to his brow, before her lips trail lazily to his temple, the shell of his ear, his jaw…

"Jealous little thing, aren't you?" Rey murmurs against his skin. "How badly do you want me, Solo?"

"You're a monster," he snaps, his words lost in a shudder as her hand brushes against his aching and pathetically eager cock. Just the merest caress, before she suddenly stands, and releases the Force restraint holding him in place.

Furious he may be, but his skin practically whines from the loss of her warmth.

"Yes," Rey says in a quiet voice. "Yes, I am." But her gaze snaps back to him. "And you want this monster, so what does that say about you?"

Ben springs to his feet, and grabs his still drying shirt from where it hangs on the back of a chair. He hisses as the cold material touches his flesh, but the pain centres him.

_There is no emotion, only peace,_ he tells himself, fumbling with the fastenings. His eyes roam the living quarters, searching for his thick outer layer.

He can't stay here now. He won't.

A sudden bang fills the air; the vessel itself seems to tremble. 

Two lightsabers fly to their masters' hands, blades alight in a heartbeat. The sound continues, echoing in the stillness.

"What the kriff is that?" Rey demands. The Force swirls around her, dark, dangerous and seeking answers. Ben shudders as it brushes against him.

"Well, Solo," she says as her rage calms but a margin. "I think we have company."


End file.
